


Collapse of the legends

by childofhebe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Footprints Secret Santa, Gen, POV Mysterious OC, Russian Mafia, Secret Santa, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofhebe/pseuds/childofhebe
Summary: Some things are inevitable... Especially if you want to survive in the cruel world made of someone else’s mistakes





	Collapse of the legends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piroco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piroco/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Footprints](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597248) by [Kashoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kashoku/pseuds/Kashoku). 



> Footprints Secret Santa!  
> My assigned consignee was our beloved non-incest angel Piroco, and I really loved to unleash my non-incest site!  
> (I doubted I had one lmao)
> 
> Merry Christmas and enjoy!

In the shadows of the corridor, in the niche intended for some mysterious statue, behind the heavy burgundy curtain, was standing a figure. Slender, tall, dressed in black, long hair tied in a tight bun and hidden under a hood. It was impossible to identify the figure by smell, obviously, a lot of scent-blockers were on those black clothes. Practically invisible - if someone hadn’t already known that the figure was there, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Two sets of steps approached, and figure tensed, intending to eavesdrop their conversation.  
“I am leaving his organization and especially this hellhouse, Yakov. And I don't give a shit what Mr. Right Hand would say. If he's that much of an asshole to not to admit MY claim, he can suck my…”  
“I got it, Yura. And I suppose I can't stop you. Is there anything I can do for you?”  
There was a silence for a few seconds, then the younger voice spoke, sounding really surprised.  
“Ah! Re-really? Honestly, I thought you would yell at me and cause an earthquake from here to Moscow or something…”  
Older man sighed. A shuffle could be heard, as he settled his hat.  
“I am old, Yura…”  
“...That is exactly why I thought it would happen.”  
“Shut up, boy!” old man snarled, and earned a chuckle coming from Yura, clearly testifying the old man's ability to cause earthquakes. Although the blonde man wasn't a boy anymore, it didn't matter to him.  
“Okay… But to answer your previous question, I don't think you have anything other to give. I and Otabek have everything solved. Besides, I don't want you to get into a fight with Georgi.”  
Old man chuckled. It was pleasantly warm noise, inducing equally warm atmosphere.  
“I am flattered that you care so much, Yura.”  
“What the fuck?! I don't!”  
Blonde man stormed away, his quick steps echoing in the corridor.  
The figure grabbed the curtain and pulled it, revealing themselves to Yakov. Old man didn’t waver, not surprised by the mysterious person's presence.  
“So… He means it.”

The old man nodded, and his eyes strayed to the window. White, untouched snow gleamed outside, lighting the deep night.  
“This is the beginning of the end.”

\---

The very same figure, dressed in the same clothes but some time after she saw the temperament blonde for the last time, walked down the stairs. The basement of the mansion was spacious, the whole labyrinth of cells, storages, and shelters. But where was the ultimate goal? In the fifth left cell of the eight corridor.  
The key rattled in the lock and said door opened. The dim light entered the cell and revealed a short older man. His white shirt radiated with smears of dried blood. His face was decorated with one big bruise around his eye. Sitting with his back leaned on the wall, the man looked truly miserable and regrettable.

The man raised his head when hearing the noise, only to sneer and raise his hand to shade the light on his face. “Finally. I was starting to think you'll never appear. But to be honest, at first I thought you will terminate me right on the spot. Not to drag me somewhere as a sack of potatoes.”

The figure tilted the head. A soft, amused chuckle could be heard. “So you expected.”  
“Of course I did. In this business, you can't mess up a whole drug supply without consequences. Although, I am a little insulted this is all I got. A single assassin? Who do you come from anyway? Sokolov? Petrov? Have you somehow managed to get me out of St.Petersburg?”  
“Hardly sir.” A figure tilted head, and hood shifted, revealing pale skin and high cheekbones. “Nikiforov sends his regards.”

A man erupted in laughter, his big stomach shaking like a jelly, his bruised face scrunching into an ugly mask. “Are you kidding me? They are all crawling under the ground, as some fucking worms, lost without their main worm. Why are you working for them? They lost. They are gone. It is only a matter of time, until we will finally see them fall. Even now, I can triumph every offer they gave you. We can erase this, and you will get me out of here and back to my people. How much? Say your price. How much does Popovich value his enemies?”

“Actually, he values his enemies a lot, sir. But traitors, that's another fairy tale.”

“I am a traitor? My time isn't worth anything to him. I don't feel like a traitor for minding my own business. Working with them was becoming dangerous.”

One swift motion, the man barely blinked, and a silver flash abandoned the black glove, traveled through the cell and landed in the man's chest. A throwing knife.  
A silent grunt escaped man's throat, as his hand flew to the handle stuck in the wound, fresh blood suddenly all over his white jacket. The movement fully let down the hood and revealed the face of the figure. 

Their eyes locked again, one pair brown, obscure and full of pain (spiced with a bit of violet bruising), while the second pair big, blue and absolutely cold, framed by thick and long eyelashes.  
The man laughed again, his voice heavy with blood and exhaustion. “I understand now. This is even bigger insult than I thought! They send a bastard after me?”

“Is it that obvious, sir?”

He didn't answer, too busy with coughing, his lips glittering with blood. 

“If you don't mind, I will take this back and end you now,” she made few quick steps, leaning and swiftly tearing the knife back from the man's chest. Then she moved her hand again, the deadly blade in her hand slitting man's throat.

\---

“I am back,” the same woman entered the biggest office in the same mansion, just a few hours later, clean of all the blood. The man who was her sentence addressed to, simply nodded.  
“Is it done?”  
“You answered yourself.”  
“Yes, whatever. It didn't matter anyway,” he said, still not averting his glance from papers he was holding. “Now, get lost.”  
“I actually wanted to talk to you.”  
That got his attention. She wasn't of those people who “wanted to talk”. He remembered her as a child, raised with discipline, never questioning anything her authorities said or ordered. He laid down the papers and folded his hands. “So?”  
“He told me we lost. That we are going to fall. How much of that is true? Or, actually, how much do you know about it?”  
As an answer, she got only a sigh. 

\---

“It is bad, Georgi… I've never seen such situation before. It's not just some regular traitor in our lines, it is much bigger than that,” the old man drew a long breath through his cigar, his eyes piercing the younger man sitting beside him.  
Georgi furrowed his eyebrows, his face reminding of a storm cloud. “I know exactly whose fault it is, Yakov,” he darted his glance to the woman in black standing in the corner. She noticed, her blue eyes blinking multiple times, but her face remained neutral and cold.  
Yakov snorted. “I know what you think, and Yuri isn't responsible for this. He left without much of a reason and he is impulsive as hell but he wouldn't give us out.”  
“I wasn't thinking of him… But of her,” Georgi tilted his head to the woman's direction. Yakov turned his head and raised his eyebrows.  
“Hardly…”  
“Are you implying something, Georgi?” a quiet but emphatic voice filled the room.  
A male alpha turned his head as quickly as if electricity hit him. “How did you just address me?”  
“You heard me. How am I responsible for the decay of your organization?”  
“It's simple. The problems started from the east and they multiplied in last months from there too. It all comes from Yakuza. Is it a coincidence that our favorite omega whore with his kids are hiding in the territory of our greatest enemy right now? I don't think so. And if you went after them like you were supposed to right after Viktor's death, this all wouldn't be happening.”  
“So I am at fault that you are incompetent. Right,” woman chuckled.  
An alpha growl vibrated through the air, another one almost immediately joining, the two trying to scoop each other.  
Yakov sighed, stuck the cigar in between his lips and slowly clapped his hands. “Shut up you two!”  
Growls immediately stopped.  
“There is truth in your words, Georgi. But we can't forget Valeriya has her reasons. I am certainly not blaming her. We have to eat what we cooked,” old man breathed out a puff of heavy grey smoke, that circled in the air.

\---

She let the gym bag down, and it landed with a nice smack on the floor, catching the attention of alpha sitting behind a table just a few meters away.  
“I am leaving.”  
Georgi angrily smacked the stash of papers down on the desk, piercing his glare through Valeriya. Any omega, beta, even a few alphas would avert their eyes in shame, but she didn't. She wasn't afraid of him, not even the slightest.  
Older alpha looked like he hadn't slept for days, but she knew this wasn't really the case. It was only a strain from five months of trying to keep the organization in one piece. Little sabotages were everywhere; too much to solve all at once. All of their contacts, business partners and friendly bratvas seemed to abandon them. Valeriya couldn't contact her own mother for a whole month now. They were losing money. They were losing time. And they were losing men. It was just as the drug lord, whom she had killed a whole half year ago, had foretold her. Nikiforov bratva was gone.  
And she didn't want to go down with it. She knew she wouldn't, as soon as she leaves now.  
“What do you mean, you are leaving?”  
“Simply as it is. I am leaving. Probably starting my own job like Yuri did. I don't need you, and you don't need me. Plus, you are treating me like a shit, and it's starting to bother me.”  
“You really should rethink this. You probably haven't thought about all cons, for example, the one where I will have your throat slitted before you leave this house.”  
Valeriya smiled coldly. Of course, she was expecting this.  
“You are worried about what you will do without me, right? No fears, Georgi, there isn't much to do around anyways.”  
“You know awfully lot about it, don't you?”  
“Are you afraid that I am a spy? A traitor?”  
“You definitely are a traitor, as your cute blonde uncle. But a spy? Well, you said it yourself.”  
“You still think I helped Vitaly? Seriously, with every day you reach higher and higher level of idiotism. I haven't helped him any more than Yura did.”  
There was a silence for a while.  
“I am looking forward to you telling this shit to Yakov.”  
“I already did and I have a blessing. He understands. I never expected you to understand and yet I am disappointed in you. Don't we have enough losses of men? You need me to kill another in self-defense? That really isn't wise, Pakhan.” The title was said with such sarcasm it made a cold creep down Georgi's spine.  
“Where would you go? You have nothing else than us.”  
“I can go to my mother. Europe is always so welcoming place, isn't it?”  
Georgi sneered. “If you say so. Do what you want, bastard brat. But don't you dare to come in front of me again. Your looks in comparison with your shitty personality are the biggest insult to this clan.”  
The woman only smirked, picked up her gym bag, turned and walked away.

\---

The month later, the whole Nikiforov bratva - the people that joined after Viktor's death, those who were inside all the time, and even people who left after Viktor's death and joined other organizations, disappeared. They were all exterminated, their places were burned, their money was stolen.  
Except her.

**Author's Note:**

> Your prompts were really difficult, honey! But I chose the "revenge" one, and despite my anxiety and stress and hurry, I like how this one turned out.
> 
> The mysterious haze around the girl is absolutely purposeful. You will see more of her later! :P (Or on discord, because I like to gossip).
> 
> Let me know what you think, throw some kudos at me, everything. Love ya! <3


End file.
